


Who Would've Guessed

by RainbowLookingGlass



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Substance Abuse, Mentions of surgery, Needles, Sick Character, Sickfic, Vomiting, mentions of overdose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 01:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8870710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowLookingGlass/pseuds/RainbowLookingGlass
Summary: Jack is nothing if not strong. He plays hockey, he knows how to take pain. Until a new type of pain shows up, and he winds up grateful for his friends' overbearing natures.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Medicine is a wild ride, friends. Most of this should be pretty accurate, I may have messed up a detail or two. If you're squeamish, I'm not sure I would recommend reading this, though it's generally not super graphic. I'll put warnings in the end notes that have spoilers if you wanna check it out before reading. Also in this fic I decided to have Bitty and Jack together before Jack moved out of the Haus, it takes place in Jack's senior year.

Honestly, it started small. Jack was sitting at the kitchen table, working on a paper while Bitty started on a pecan pie when the first hints of cramping started. Or at least, he assumed it was cramping. The pain was hard to quantify, slightly sharp but almost impossible to pinpoint aside from it being in the lower part of his stomach, a bit to the right. He figured it was probably just indigestion or something, too much pie in his otherwise clean diet, maybe. Setting it aside, he focused harder on his paper. He could handle a little pain.

He was able to ignore it for a while. But rather than subsiding, or even coming and going as stomach issues usually did, the pain just got slowly and steadily more intense. After nearly two hours he found himself pressing an arm to his side, not even fully meaning to, hoping maybe that would help. If it did anything, though, it made it worse.

“Jack? You ok, honey?” Jack looked up, finding Bitty carrying the pie over, forehead creased with worry. Jack attempted to give him a reassuring smile, but it wobbled a bit.

“I’m fine, Bits. Just a stomach ache,” Jack said, turning back to his laptop again. Normally he appreciated pecan pie, but the smell really wasn’t appealing at the moment. No matter what it was he tried to focus on, his mind inevitably wandered back to the increasingly sharp stabbing in his stomach. He gritted his teeth against it. He was fine, he was sure.

“Well… Alright. But you do seem awful tense. Do you want pepto or something?” Bittle offered, setting the pie down on the table. Jack didn’t get a chance to answer before they heard a stampede on the stairs and the door to the kitchen flew open, Ransom and Holster stumbling over themselves.

“Bro! We could smell the pie from the attic!” Holster exclaimed, immediately going for one of the plates Bittle had set out. Ransom paused though, looking Jack over.

“Bro, you don’t look good. What’s up?” he asked, taking a seat at the table next to Jack. Jack frowned. Clearly he wasn’t doing a good job of ignoring his discomfort if his teammates could recognize it so easily.

“My stomach just hurts,” he muttered, hoping they’d let it go. He knew better, though. Ransom was obsessed with medicine and loved playing Haus doctor. Since getting his EMT certification he’d become insufferable.

“What kind of pain? Where?” Ransom asked, as had become his usual. Jack groaned internally, but decided humoring him was the way to get him off his case as quickly as possible.

“Sharp pain, I guess. Around here,” he said, touching the spot on his side where the pain seemed to become more and more clear. Ransom’s eyes widened and his lips pressed together into a thin line.

“How severe, scale of one to ten, ten worst,” Ransom demanded tersely. Jack’s brows furrowed.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” he replied gruffly. “I’m going to go lay down for a bit.” Before anyone couldn’t stop him he closed his laptop, standing and leaving the room. The pain spiked when he stood, making him feel vaguely nauseous. He pushed it down, but by the time he got to the stairs he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He whirled around and found Ransom there, looking more intense than Jack had never seen him off the ice.

“Bro, look, I know you have a thing about doctors and hospitals. I get it. But where you pointed is where your appendix is, this is the most you’ve ever outwardly shown pain, and frankly that’s scary. I’d feel better if we got this checked out,” Ransom said, seeming very genuine. Jack just clenched his jaw though, shaking his head.

“If it’s still bad in an hour, I’ll let you take me,” Jack said, gently shaking Ransom’s hand off his shoulder and heading up the stairs. He set his laptop on his desk and, after a second of thought, walked past his desk and got into bed. He wasn’t going to be able to focus on the paper anyhow.

An hour later found Jack in the worst agony of his life, he was sure. His entire world was focused on the spot of pain just on the inside of his hip bone. Any movement sent a wave of nausea through him. He was dying, he was sure.

That was how Ransom found him when he went to check on him. He took one look at Jack and yelled for Holster, telling him to get his car keys. He quickly crossed the room and pressed his wrist to Jack’s forehead.

“No fever that I can tell. Are you nauseous?” Jack could do little more than nod. “The nausea is definitely not a good sign. Come on, we’re going to the hospital,” Ransom told him, no room for argument. Jack let out a whine.

“Look, we can go to the urgent care. It’s probably just a stomach virus. I don’t want to go to the hospital,” Jack said shakily. The mere thought of hospitals brought him back to the worst night of his life, of IVs and activated charcoal and his parents’ tense worry, of how he lost all of his privacy all at once. Ransom hesitated, but nodded.

“Fine, you stubborn bastard. They’ll tell you the same thing I did, though.” He helped Jack up, letting Jack support his own weight once he was upright. He grabbed Jack’s wallet and phone off the desk and put an arm around Jack, leading him down the stairs and out to the car. Holster already had it running, and Bitty was in the back seat behind the driver’s side. He handed Jack a plastic bag as soon as Jack got in.

“I was outside the door and heard Ransom say you were nauseous. I figured better safe than sorry, you know? I also brought along the pepto, though I don’t know if that’ll really do much good to you…” Jack closed his eyes and leaned his head back, letting Bitty’s rambling wash over him but not actually processing anything. He was vaguely aware that he was letting small whiny sounds out every now and then, but couldn’t bring himself to care. The car ride felt like an eternity, and he wasn’t really sure how the pain could still be getting worse. Every minute it felt like there couldn’t be pain this intense, and the next minute proved him wrong. Finally, though, they made it. Jack clumsily managed to get out of the car, and promptly threw up harder than he ever had in his life. 

Ransom rubbed his back gently, but turned towards Holster. “You guys go in first. Tell them we have a 24 year old male, sharp lower right quadrant abdomnial pain and vomiting. As soon as he’s done we’ll be in,” Ransom told him. Holster nodded and turned to go into the entrance, Bitty at his heels. Jack retched a few more times, but finally his stomach settled a bit. He straightened up, nodding his thanks at Ransom as they made their way inside. At the entrance Bitty was waiting just inside, holding a strangely shaped plastic container and handing it to Jack. He managed to get to the room that they immediately ushered him into before throwing up again, continuing to retch even though there really wasn’t anything left in his stomach. There was a flurry of activity around him, and Ransom was talking to someone Jack assumed was a doctor. He was suddenly very glad that Ransom had created a spread sheet of every Haus member’s medical information and memorized it. He wasn’t sure how well he would be able to tell them anything in this state.

They made him provide a urine sample, leading him to throw up yet again in the bathroom, then took a blood sample, then stuck a needle in his arm and gave him an injection. “Zofran,” the doctor told him. “It should help with the nausea, but it’ll make you sleepy.” Jack just nodded. He knew he probably wasn’t getting anything for pain with his past. It didn’t take long for the medication to take effect, making the room feel fuzzy as he drifted off.

He didn’t know how much later it was when Ransom shook him and helped him up, keeping the latest plastic container close by. “Come on, hospital time. They can’t tell us for sure but they think you have appendicitis. They already called ahead to the hospital for us,” Ransom told him, supporting most of Jack’s weight. Jack didn’t bother to respond, focusing on walking and not throwing up. He actually managed not to this time, and he was quickly packed into the car while everyone else got in. Bitty took his seat next to Jack again, brushing Jack’s sweaty bangs from his face.

“Just a few minutes till we get to the hospital, sweetheart. You’re so brave. It’ll be ok, just hang on, alright?” Bitty murmured to him, stroking his face. Jack just closed his eyes, and focused on his voice and hand, whimpering in a way he knew was pathetic, but he was so far beyond caring.

It wasn’t that much later that they reached the ER. Holster pulled up to the entrance and Ransom and Bitty helped Jack out. “Look, I have an exam. It’s only an hourly, I’ll be done long before you guys are out of here. If you need to be picked up before then call Shitty, ok?” Holster told them. Ransom nodded and wished him luck before he pulled away, once again helping Jack walk. Jack was barely in the doors of the hospital before he was throwing up again. “I thought the shot they gave him was supposed to make this stop,” Bitty said to Ransom, glaring. Ransom shrugged a bit.

“It was, bro. I don’t know why it’s not working, Zofran is basically the best drug there is to decrease nausea,” Ransom replied. They were immediately ushered into a little room with a nurse waiting. She looked bored, taking the plastic container away immediately and handing Jack a strange, deep, perfectly circular bag with a wire rim instead. Jack stumbled through answering her questions, still loopy from the nausea medication. He was only really aware of bits and pieces. No, he didn’t have any allergies. He was on 15 mg Lexapro for anxiety. The pain started maybe 5 hours ago, he started vomiting about an hour ago. He was given Zofran, Ransom knew the dosage. Really, anything Jack didn’t know or was too out of it to answer, Ransom was there to help. Bitty just sat quietly, holding onto Jack’s arm and rubbing soothing circles into it. Jack was enormously grateful for both of them through his haze.

“There’s one other thing,” Ransom told the nurse when they were nearly done. “He has a history of substance abuse, benzodiazepines and alcohol. He’s been clean several years now, but it’s something the doctors should know.” The nurse nodded, typing it in, then reaching back and taking a bracelet that had been printed out and sticking it around Jack’s wrist. A different nurse came by and led them directly to a room, where Ransom helped Jack climb into a bed. Jack drifted, in too much pain to sleep but too out of it to properly pay attention to his surroundings either. He realized dully that normally being in a hospital would make him horribly anxious, but he found he just didn’t have the energy for it. It would be a relief if he wasn’t in so much pain. At some point a cheery nurse came in, cooed over him a bit, and put in an IV. A while after that, a doctor came in.

“I’m Dr. Green, I’ll be taking care of you. So, based on what urgent care said as well as the symptoms he’s reporting, we do believe this is appendicitis. To be sure, we’re going to need him to drink a contrast. We’ll then do a CT scan. If the appendix is inflamed, the contrast won’t be able to enter it. If it’s not, we’ll see the contrast in the appendix and we’ll know it’s healthy. Charlie, your nurse, will be in with the bottles shortly,” she informed them.

“He hasn’t been able to go more than a few minutes without vomiting for hours now, is this really the best course of treatment?” Ransom asked, brows furrowed.

“I understand that. The contrast isn’t particularly hard on the stomach, though, and with the Zofran on board he should be alright. This is by far the most definitive test, and given that his symptoms don’t match perfectly, I’d like as clear a test as possible,” the doctor explained. “When Charlie brings the contrast, he’ll also administer morphine,” Ransom opened his mouth to protest but Dr. Green held her hand up. “He has a history of abuse, not addiction, correct?” Jack managed to nod. He’d never been physically dependent. “A dose or two of a narcotic won’t trigger a relapse. They’re relatively similar, but still two different drugs. He’s under close supervision here, and we won’t write a script for when he leaves unless he feels he needs one, and in that case we’ll make sure it’s tightly monitored. He’ll be fine,” she told them. Ransom nodded, placated, and let her leave. They all sat in silence, Bitty holding Jack’s hand tightly. A few minutes later Charlie returned.

“Here you are!” he said brightly, handing Ransom 2 large bottles of liquid. “They’re berry flavored, they don’t taste great but better than the contrast on its own. Now, make sure he drinks all of that within two hours. I’ll just put the morphine in his IV here and you’ll be all set!” he reached up, stuck the needle in a part of the IV tube and pushed the medication in, then put the needle in the sharps container and left. Ransom looked at the contrast incredulously, then sighed.

“Alright Jack, time to drink up,” he told him, opening a bottle and handing it to Jack. Jack reluctantly took a sip. His stomach churned a bit, but he kept it down. He repeated this process over and over. After a couple minutes he felt the morphine kick in. It didn’t get rid of the pain, but it took some of the edge off, and Jack was beyond grateful for even that. With his slow sipping, by an hour he had only finished about half the first bottle. “Jack,” Ransom scolded him a bit. “You need to finish it or they won’t be able to do the test.”

“Well if I throw it all up before it gets to my appendix they won’t be able to either,” Jack retorted. Ransom sighed.

“I know man, I know. Just try to speed it up a bit, ok?” he asked. Jack nodded, taking a bit more down in his next sip. He drank more often, pushing the limits of his stomach and the nausea that hadn’t totally gone down while Ransom encouraged him. He was doing well until he had about 5 minutes left and three quarters of the second bottle down. He barely grabbed the bag out of Bitty’s hand in time, grateful for Bitty’s hand on his back and the quiet reassurances in his ear. Jack took a deep breath when he was done, taking the bottle back from Ransom just as a new nurse came in asking how it was going.

“Pretty well, I think,” Jack told her. He was feeling kind of out of it, in a different way from the Zofran. Everything was soft and slightly bright, and his thoughts felt pleasantly slow. It reminded him vaguely of how he felt after he took pills in his youth. “I got most of it down, but I just threw up again. Here, just give me a second, I can finish the rest of this,” he started to bring the bottle to his lips but the nurse snatched it out of his grasp.

“That’s quite alright. I’m sure you drank enough and kept it down long enough, let’s not push it,” she told him. “Radiology is ready for you, let me grab a stretcher and we’ll wheel you to the CT room.” She left and returned with a stretcher and several other people. Together, with the help of Ransom and Bitty, they transferred Jack to the stretcher. Bitty squeezed his hand before they took him.

“We’ll be right here waiting for you, sweetheart,” he told Jack. Jack felt his heart swell, but could only squeeze back before he was taken to the room with the scanner. Once there a woman told him how the CT scan would work, and put a new needle in the arm not already holding an IV, pressing on it through the skin.

“Does that hurt?” she asked him. Jack frowned at her.

“Yes, you’re pressing on it,” he told her. She just gave him a tired look.

“I have to press on it to make sure it’s in correctly,” she replied. He nodded emphatically.

“Of course, you can press as much as you need to, but if you ask me if it hurts while you do the answer is always gonna be yes,” he tried to explain. She just glared.

“It’s not a large gauge, so it shouldn’t hurt too badly,” she told him. Jack didn’t understand what this had to do with anything.

“Be that as it may, there is still a needle in my arm,” he told her.

“Actually, it’s a catheter,” she said.

“Whatever it is, it is still in my arm, my friend,” he sing-songed, grinning a bit. She just gazed at him incredulously.

“Well it’s putting a different kind of contrast into your blood stream. I’m going to go into the other room and we’ll start the scan.”

The scan only took a couple minutes, the machine telling him when to hold his breath and when to breathe. As the nurse took him out of the machine and got him ready to go back, Jack told her how wonderful and kind she was, and how he was having a really terrible night but she made it better. She just shook her head and wished him luck, handing him off to another nurse. As she wheeled him through the hallways they passed by a supply cart, which had a box of the strange bags on it. “Can I have one of those bag things?” Jack asked, not really thinking about it.

“Do you feel nauseous again?” the nurse asked, hastily grabbing one. Jack shook his head.

“I don’t really know, but I don’t have a great track record tonight,” Jack told her. She just laughed and shook her head. When they got back to his room, Jack was able to transfer himself with just the help of Ransom. With the imaging done, it was just a waiting game. He passed the time by gushing to his friends about how lovely they were, how beautiful Bitty was and how competent Ransom was. “I would have died without you tonight,” he told Ransom with conviction. Ransom patted his arm, shaking his head. Bitty was trying not to laugh, but grinning openly. Finally, Dr. Green showed up, Charlie in tow.

“I have good news and bad news,” she told them. “Good news, is no surgery tonight. You don’t have appendicitis. Shockingly, you have a kidney stone. It’s a four millimeter stone, it must be oddly shaped because it seems to be caught on the ureter. As such, it’s created lacerations that have gotten infected. Severely infected. He needs IV antibiotics immediately to prevent sepsis,” she explained. Ransom just looked at her in shock.

“A… kidney stone,” he repeated slowly. Dr. Green nodded.

“I couldn’t be more surprised. We’re also going to give him some Flowmax to dilate the ureters, I’ll give you a prescription for that and Toradol, which Charlie will give him once he’s got the antibiotics set up. That’ll help a lot with the pain, it’s the best there is for kidney stones. The stone is large, but just small enough that it should pass on its own. We’ll be giving him strainers to try and catch the stone once it passes, and we strongly encourage following up with a urologist. If it doesn’t pass after a week, we’ll reassess the need for surgery. Any questions?” Ransom shook his head and Jack followed suit. She left while Charlie got everything set up. A few minutes after Charlie gave him the Toradol, Jack felt the pain melt away, leaving nothing but a slight ache.

“Oh my god,” he muttered, shocked. Bitty was immediately on his feet, hands fluttering over Jack.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He asked. Jack shook his head.

“No, that medication—the pain just disappeared. I mean, there’s still a tiny bit, but it’s barely there,” he explained. Bitty sank down into his seat and let out a deep breath. They chatted a bit while the antibiotics worked, Jack feeling better and better as time went on. He started to drift off now and then, but Bitty wouldn’t let him sleep, clearly still worried about him. After a couple more hours, Charlie came and took out his IV, letting them know they could leave whenever their ride got there. Within half an hour Ransom got a text that Holster was there, and Bitty and Ransom got Jack stood up. Immediately he swayed, falling back onto the bed. “Dizzy,” he told them, his head spinning a bit. Ransom cursed.

“Of course, I should’ve expected…” He flagged down a nurse and asked for a wheelchair for him. They got him out to the car without incident, and Jack dozed on the way home. At the Haus Ransom got Jack out of the car, then he and Holster each put an arm around him and half carried him inside. Shitty was waiting with the door open and ushered them in. They deposited him at the kitchen table, Bitty flying around the kitchen. Within minutes Jack had toast and chicken soup in front of him. He ate slowly, enjoying how his stomach didn’t reject it outright now that his pain was under control. When he was done he felt much better, still weak but less dizzy. Bitty muttered something to Shitty, who nodded and disappeared, before going over to Jack.

“Feeling better, honey?” he asked sweetly. Jack nodded, smiling a bit at him. “Think you can stand on your own?” Jack responded by getting up, careful to go slowly. He still felt weak and exhausted, but he didn’t feel like he would go down.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” he told Bitty. They said their goodnights to Ransom and Holster, Jack thanking them profusely, and headed toward the stairs. Bitty needed to help him a bit, and Jack found himself, not for the first time, impressed by just how strong Bitty was. Bitty led him through his room and into the bathroom he shared with Shitty, who was just finishing putting an old plastic chair in the bathtub and turning the water on to warm up. 

“Had to wipe it down but it should be good, brah. You can handle him Bitty?” Shitty asked. Bitty waved him off, reassuring him it would be fine, and Shitty ducked into his own room. “Let me know if you need me,” he told them. Bitty turned to Jack.

“Now, I’m sure all you want to do right now is go to sleep, but after the night you’ve had, you definitely need to get clean before that,” he said, beginning to undress Jack. Jack let him, complying as Bitty helped him sit in the chair. Bitty did all the work, washing him quickly and thoroughly but gently. Jack didn’t think anything had ever felt better than his boyfriend’s hands and the warm water washing over him. Soon it was over, Bitty turning off the water, helping him get out, drying him off with Jack leaned against the counter and making him brush his teeth.

Bitty led him into his room, dressing him in a t shirt and pair of sweats and putting him in bed. “Is it alright if I sleep here?” he asked. “I don’t want to be any further from you than I have to be in case something else happens.” Jack responded by opening up the covers and turning over, letting Bitty press up against him. “Goodnight, honey,” Bitty murmured. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” Jack could only squeeze the arm draped over him a bit before he dropped off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Five days later, when the stone passed, Jack was presented with a maple sugar crusted pie and a kiss from a very relieved Bitty.

**Author's Note:**

> Jack has a kidney stone that gets infected. This causes severe pain that causes him to vomit for hours. He needs an IV and at one point there's a mention of a nurse messing with a needle that's in his skin. There's a brief mention of his hospital stay after his overdose as well. I think that's it? My tumblr is thesegayhockeynerds if you wanna come say hi!


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